


Emptiness.

by XxXA27XxX



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon Snow is King Beyond the Wall, Mental Health Issues, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, jonsa, not very happy, tw:depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxXA27XxX/pseuds/XxXA27XxX
Summary: In the end, she got what she wanted; Daenerys was gone, she was Queen in the North and Jon was safe. But why she hated herself so much for it?Jon Snow go to exile up north and is taken as a political figure, a leader. All he wants is to be left alone.A love story about those who are not meant to be.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	Emptiness.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: English is not my first language, please take that into consideration.  
> Also, this fanfic is a work of fiction, I don't hate any character in this fanfiction and I'm sorry this is a quite heavy story, its brings delicate themes about mental health so be sure to check on with yourself if you are okay with that :)  
> Enjoy!

Everynight, when she was finally alone in her rooms, she'd let herself fall to the ground, hug her knees and just stare at nothing like a mad woman.

She isn't necessarily thinking she's mad; she's sad, misunderstood mostly of all; but some nights she could believe she was going insane with sadness, and guilt, and shame and all the things that comes with a broken promise.

 _"Can you forgive me?"_

He couldn't even look her in the eye. 

Sansa thought she was so _goddamn_ smart. She had all the right moves and all the right reasons to open her big mouth to Tyrion like a fool. 

_"She burned them all, my lady."_

And now, the weight of that pretty crown of hers is bearing down more than she could ever imagine. It weighed on her shoulders, making them tight and hurting at every time of the day. She wished she could share the burden and the weight with somebody, someday. Maybe when Arya came back home she'd help. Maybe and if and when. Who knows. 

_"The lone wolf dies but the pack survives"_

She stopped her staring and broke a light bitter laugh.

_ Well, good luck with that. _ her voice was raspy and low. 

Looking around, taking a few deep breathes, Sansa slowly stood and started undressing to her small clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Next, she poured herself a cup of wine and took it in, gulp by gulp, the sour taste in her mouth. Without stopping herself, she licked her lips. 

Those moments she had with herself, and only herself, were the most enjoyable, she thought. No straightening her back, no curtesies, no fake smiles. Just her and some good _ish_ wine, and some nights maybe bringing herself to a quick orgasm, just to feel the rush. His name always coming to her mind just when she was feeling so fucking good, for that little moment of time, anyway. 

A little knock on the door brought her attention to the outside world, the wine taking over for a bit.

_ Yes? _ Sansa answered the knock. 

_ Your Grace, a traveller just arrived... _ the tone was hesitant. 

Sansa could roll her eyes.

_ Yes? 

_ It's Jon Snow, Your Grace. He just arrived without notice and demands he speaks with you, Your Grace.

Sansa's heart was speading, she poured herself another cup and took the wine and a few gulps. 

_ Your Grace? 

_ Tell him I'm meeting him as soon as I can. And send me my maid, I need to get dressed. 

She didn't wait for the answer, taking the wine jar in her hands she took long sips, waiting for the liquid to settle in her stomach. 

_ Fuck _him_. Fuck _all_ of them. _ she said bitterly. 

~

When the days were _warm_ enough, he would ride with Ghost to some beautiful isolated place, some cold river or big oak trees, as tall as you could see them. In those days, in those moments, Jon could almost feel like the rest of the world truly didn't exist anymore. 

Cursed as he was, the free folk took him as some kind of leader, some bullshit Tourmund was talking about him being loyal and good; He could almost thrown up in this mouth a little. 

So, when he felt he had to many people up his arse, he would wait for a good day to get away and just be still and quiet for a while.

In silence, he would sit and listen to the water streaming down, or the birds, or whatever else was present with him that moment. 

There, he was nothing. No big or small name, no big or small crime. No guilt, no shame, no missing and hating Sansa so much he could cry and tear himself apart. 

Unfortunately today wasn't one of those days. Stuck in a middle of a complain, he hears it would be best if the Queen herself would take note of the situation. 

All eyes fell to him, almost as ashamed as him. 

_ I-I'll go... I'll go talk to her. _ he answered dumbly and humorless. 

_ Are ya fuckin' sure? It's been what? Seven? Eight years? _ Tourmed inquired.

_ Aye. _ Jon gave the shoulders. _ It's been too long. 

When he arrives at Winterfell, almost three weeks after he left the true north, it's already dark but he's pretty sure Sansa's still awake.

It could wait. But he could't.

~

Sansa put on a nice yet simple gown for the night and went downstairs, her heart beating fast under her chest, her mouth dry as a desert, her head lighty affected by the wine.

Finally, entering the front hall, she sees him; he looks tired and older but still handsome and with a good figure, his hair and beard so long with a few grey hairs. They all got older, it seemed. 

Sansa caught her breath when their eyes met, only a broken a sweetly _"Welcome, Jon"_ leaving her troat. It didn't feel right to run into his arms this time. 

_ I'm sorry to bother you, your Grace. _ his voice ever so low _ But in the name of the free folk I have some talk to do, some problem solving. 

Sansa arched her eyebrown.

_ I'm sure it could wait until tomorrow. 

Jon nodded.

_ Very well, I'll make sure there's a bath and food for you at your chamber. We could talk after that if you still insists. 

_ Thank you, _Sansa. __ her name souding so damn good at his lips. 

At his chambers, he took all the strenght in his body to take off all this clothes and get into the hot water. It felt so good on his sore muscles and cold skin he could moan. Jon washed his face and hair with soap, complaining about the lenght and how long it took him to wash all of it. After cleaning himself and tightening the towl around his hips, Jon grabbed his sharp knife and started cutting his hair until it was shoulder's lenght, he decided to cut a little of the beard too. With a help of a small mirror he made sure he didn't make a fool of himself cutting his own hair. Happy with the result, he put the knife down and put his attention the the cheese and bread platter, with honey and milk. His mouth watering as he took big bites of food.

With his belly full and body clean, he laid on the softest bed he had laid on for a long while and closed his eyes _just_ a little.

Jon cursed himself when he opened his eyes and the sun was shining bright outside. 

Sansa, on the other hand, rose early in the morning, not getting much sleep anyways. She put on a nice gown, put her rose water on her braid, neck, behind her ears and wrists. She was nervous, yet, excited. Her stomach tigh in a knot but filled with butterflies that reminded her of first love on a summer afternoon. 

When Jon didn't show up for breakfast, Sansa reminded herself he was tired from the long journey.

When Jon didn't show up for their afternoon meal, Sansa could swear he had already left her again or he was just a hallucination, a feverish dream from the wine intake. 

She settled in her solar for the rest of the afternoon, taking sips of warm wine with cinnamon and cloves, looking nervously at the door every ten seconds. 

When the knock came, Sansa jumped so high in her chair that she blused akwardly. 

_ Come in!

Peaking his head in firts, Jon slowly entered the room. 

_ You cut your hair. _ Sansa noticed. _ Looks good.

She could sense the nervousness. 

_ Thank you, Your Grace. _ he offered her a smile. 

_ Please, sit. How can I help, Jon? I fear I've waited for this conversation in the morning, but...

_ Aye, good bed! _ Jon lowered his eyes, scrathing his beard. _ I fell sleep and didn't even notice. 

This time it was Sansa who offered a smile. 

_ Well? 

_ There's been complaints from the free folk about some of your men at the trading markets up north. 

_ My men? _ Sansa inquired, brown arched.

_ Northmen, yes. Corruption, unfair price. They're messing with the women, too _ Jon continued. _ They insisted I talked to you before taking any actions. 

_ Fair enough, I'll make sure this will be taken into consideration with my advisors. I'll send guards and people of my trust to check the situation and take actions against those guilty. Corruption, harrasing, this will not be accepted. 

_ Thank you, Your Grace. 

_ Please, Jon... Call me by my name. Call me Sansa. I barely hear it these days...

He couldn't not notice how fragile and alone she sounded. 

_ _San-za __ he called her the way she loved, she smiled big and closed her eyes to the sound.

_ I missed you. 

The statement made her open her eyes, looking into those dark and misterious eyes staring kindly at her. 

_ I missed you, too. 

The silence stayed between them until Jon filled the air with a wine offering. Sansa accepted gladly, taking her cup in her hands.

_ I'll be riding back first thing in the morning tomorrow. _ Jon started.

_ I know. _ she asnwered emotionless, staring at the wall, sipping the wine. 

There was so much unspoken, so much hurt and anger and they were never brave enough to yell them out. Or they didn't think it was _worth_ the fight anymore.

She was unhappy and broken, he could see that. And the bad part of him thought she _deserved_ it. Just like he deserved all the bad luck in the fucking wold. 

_"That's what she wanted after all, wasn't it?_

_ I'm sorry, Sansa. _ that was all he could say. 

_ Yes, me too. 

Before excusing herself, Sansa made sure they would have dinner together later that night. 

_ I'll make sure they make the eggs the way you liked it. 

~

_ Would you... Would you like to have some wine? At my solar? 

Jon arched a brown, looking at a red faced Sansa. 

Once they arrived, Sansa opened one of her windows, letting a cold breeze into the room, breathing in, filling her lungs with the icy air. 

_ You fine? 

_ Yes, yes. I'm just _hot. _ "and anxious, my hands are sweating, my chest aches, and I'm so horny"_

Silence once again, but this time Jon was so close to her, almost touching. His presence hot and firm beside her. 

_ We were so close, once... _ Sansa closed her eyes, speaking softly. 

_ Aye...

He was closer.

_ I... I...

_ Shhh, _San-za_.

Jon finally closed the distance between them, finding her lips with his lips, his tongue asking for entrance after they broke the ice of the first touch. His hands grabbing her waist and pulling closer, tasting the wine in her tongue. Sansa grabbed him by his collar, closer, always closer. 

Their hands and mouths wondered, licked, kissed, tasted, grabbed, caressed their way trought each other trought the night. They made love like they've always done it, like they've been together for years. 

Once Sansa had subsided from her orgasm, they laid spread on the tick rugs, theirs hands carresing each other. 

_ Stay. _ she asked so quietly he wasn't even sure he heard right. 

_ You know I can't, love. 

She knew.

In the next morning when he mounted his horse and left, she told herself she would wait until the night has fallen and she was alone in her chamber; when she could grab herself some wine, hug her knees and just stare at the wall like a madwoman. 


End file.
